Page 75 of Alien Prince's Fated Mate

Branna?

The touch strengthened,carrying more personality than I’d ever sensed before. This wasn’t the empty shell that had spoken through Temple walls - this was Branna, whole and aware, her consciousness burning bright in the network.

We’ve been here all along, her thoughts carried decades of trapped awareness.Watching. Waiting. The lightning strike gave us the opportunity to give you more freedom than we ever had.

Through their combined perspectives, I saw the Temple as it truly was - not just ancient technology corrupted by the priests, but a living network of imprisoned minds. Girls who had disappeared over the years, their consciousness preserved but imprisoned. They had caused minor malfunctions, protected what humanity they could. But they’d never been able to coordinate their efforts.

Until now.

A security feed caught my attention, making my heart stutter. Blood matted his hair where they’d struck him down, his transformed body already reverting as they pumped him full of suppression drugs. The guards used sonic weapons tuned to his enhanced senses, the pain evident in every line of his body.

“The beast is secured.” Zarak’s voice pulled me back to the physical world. “Though I still say we should eliminate the threat entirely.”

“The alien’s biology may prove useful for future improvements.” Aronn’s fingers never stopped moving across the controls. “And his presence ensures the Oracle’s cooperation.”

Through the network, I felt other minds shift in response to my fury. They shared their knowledge freely - how the priests had corrupted the original systems, where the crucial control nodes were located. Most importantly, they showed me the emergency shutdown protocols - and the terrible price they required.

“We have the Oracle back now,” Aronn said, studying his displays. “Back where she belongs. There will be no more rebellion.”

If he only knew. The Temple’s network might flow through my mind, but they no longer controlled it. I waited until the guards changed shift at Tharon’s cell, then reached out through the network like Branna had taught me. My voice emerged from hidden speakers, barely more than a whisper.

“Tharon?”

His head turned left and right, eyes searching the empty cell. Despite the drugs, I felt his response through our bond.

“I’m here.” I pushed comfort through the connection. “I’m with you. Just hold on a little longer.”

He strained against the restraints, muscles bulging. Even wounded and drugged, his protective instincts burned strong. “Niam... what are they doing to you?”

“Giving me exactly what I need.” I ached to touch him, but knew that moving now would damn us both. “The original systems are accepting my access. And I’m not alone anymore.”

Other voices joined mine, whispering through the speakers. Dozens of them, each carrying years of quiet defiance.

“We’re with your mate, warrior.” Branna’s voice, stronger than I’d ever heard it. “She’s going to set us all free.”

I didn’t tellhim the cost. Didn’t let him feel the weight of what I’d discovered in the ancient protocols. He would try to stop me if he knew.

The priests were still arguing about deployment patterns, oblivious to the revolution brewing in their own systems. They thought they controlled this technology, but they had never truly understood it.

The Temple had been designed for connection, for cooperation - not consumption. And now, after centuries of abuse, it was about to remind them of that fact.

Are you ready? Branna asked, as the other minds gathered close.

Yes. I took one last look at Tharon through the security feed, memorizing his face.

Then let’s show them what happens when they cage too many ghosts in their machine.

THARON

Cold metal bit into my wrists where the restraints held me. The priests’ drugs burned through my veins, but I breathed slowly, let my muscles go slack. Let them think their chemicals had me subdued. Every detail mattered now - guard rotations, the subtle tremors that ran through the Temple’s living walls.

Three guards at the door. Always three, wearing the black robes of the inner circle. Their firewhips crackled softly, a constant reminder of how they’d brought me down. But beneath their practiced indifference, I caught the acrid scent of fear.

Good. Fear made people sloppy.

The younger priest - Merek, I'd heard them call him - approached with another syringe of cloudy liquid. His hands shook slightly as he fed it into the tubes running into my arm. The beast beneath my skin snarled at the fresh wave of burning, but my eyes stayed unfocused, posture loose, mind spinning to put together the fragments of Terran I knew into conversation.

“Increasing the dosage again?” The older guard shifted his weight. “Is that wise?”

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